


something's gained in living every day

by whyyesitscar



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa Week, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: my collection of entries for clexa week. odd chapters are a modern AU, even chapters play with canon.





	1. toothbrush

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from joni mitchell's 'both sides now', chapter title and lyrics from 'toothbrush' by DNCE. written for day 2 of clexa week (roommates) and also filling a prompt i've had sitting in my inbox for far too long. if i've written this right, chapters 1, 3, and 5 exist in the same modern AU and occur in backwards chronological order. mostly. but who knows; my plans are always grander than the execution. 
> 
> either way, enjoy!
> 
> specific prompt: 'Lexa woke up and realized how much she loves Clarke and will give almost everything up, just to have Clarke as a constant in her life, for the rest of her life. Someone she doesn't want to live without.'

_when you're standing there in your underwear_   
_and my t-shirt from the night before;_   
_with your messed-up hair and your feet still bare--_   
_would you mind closing the bedroom door?_

.

“We should have done this earlier.”

“Don’t tell Raven.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“But we should have.”

“I know.”

/

Lexa wakes up after Clarke. She always has (hopes she always will), and it takes a moment for it to click in her brain that they’re not in high school anymore. Clarke left her in high school but now it’s three years later, and she came back, and Lexa can hear her singing from the kitchen in the apartment they share.

Lexa has to turn away from the window before she cries, either from too much sun or too many memories.

She flits in and out of sleep for the next fifteen minutes, smiling every time Clarke drops something or crashes into the table or belts a verse of a pop song she loves before she realizes that someone is asleep in the next room. Lexa is too cozy to get up and tell Clarke that she can sing as loud as she wants.

But eventually her comfy daze gives way to the rumble in her stomach, and Lexa can’t put off getting up any longer. She slides out of bed, grumbling appreciatively as her back pops. Her hair is a hopeless mess on top of her head and Lexa can’t stop smiling.

She pads into the kitchen quietly, not wanting to disturb Clarke. Clarke in the mornings is different than Clarke at night—she’s freer, bouncier. She’s so light that Lexa is sure the sun doesn’t exist until Clarke opens her eyes. Lexa leans against the doorway, watching Clarke spin in one of Lexa’s oversized shirts. It hangs on her differently than it does on Lexa, loose across her shoulders and tight against her hips. Lexa’s sure she’s never seen anything so intoxicating.

“I can feel you staring,” Clarke sing-songs.

“Good.” Lexa makes her way over to Clarke, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s stomach. Every part of Clarke is her favorite part to hold, but especially right now. “I was afraid I’d lost my touch.”

“Not if last night was anything to go by,” Clarke laughs. Her voice is half an octave lower than it usually is, and whatever the cause, sleep or sex, Lexa is glad for it.

“Clarke.”

“Hm?”

“Do those eggs have hot sauce smiley faces?”

Clarke chuckles, deep enough that Lexa can feel it rumble through her body. “Maybe.”

“And you call yourself an adult,” Lexa responds, laughing right along with her.

Clarke gasps in mock offense. “I would never!”

Lexa squeezes her a little tighter, sways them back and forth. Half-cooked eggs drip from the spatula to the floor and Lexa couldn’t care less.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, kissing Clarke on her neck.

Clarke spins around and tips up to catch her lips, running her free hand beneath Lexa’s shirt. Lexa has half a mind to pick Clarke up and set her on the counter, if only that wouldn’t result in a very burned ass.

“We need to move away from the stove,” Lexa mumbles between kisses.

“I know, but I’m really hungry.”

Lexa reaches around and turns off the burner. The eggs give one last sizzle before they settle in the pan. “We’ll make more later, I promise.”

Clarke pulls away, smiling and tucking some of Lexa’s hair behind her ears. “Okay.” She wraps her legs around Lexa’s waist, laughing as Lexa walks them backwards toward the bedroom. Lexa has definitely underestimated how much she’s missed Clarke; missed the warmth of her skin and the way she presses so fully into her. Clarke is alarmingly present in everything she does. It used to paralyze Lexa sometimes, the depth with which she felt things and always expected others to feel the same. Eventually, Lexa did—she dug the deepest hole she possibly could for Clarke, and Clarke climbed out of it anyway. It took a long time for Lexa to come out of it herself.

But they’re both out now (or back in it, Lexa isn’t sure which) and Lexa would like to stay here for a very long time. Certainly the foreseeable future. So she lays Clarke back down on the bed and smoothes her hair, settling in between Clarke’s legs. She folds her arms over Clarke’s stomach and rests her chin on the backs of her hands.

“Spent already?” Clarke teases.

Lexa laughs and shakes her head. “I just...wanted to take a minute.”

“To do what?”

Lexa shrugs. “To look, to remember. To think.” Clarke sighs and Lexa relaxes, lets her head be pushed with the flow of Clarke’s breathing. “I don’t think I can talk about Costia with you yet, and I’m not really ready to hear about Lincoln. But as much as I missed this part of us”—she laughs when Clarke reaches down and pinches her side—”I think I miss just talking to you, about whatever.”

Clarke smiles, beckons her up with a finger until Lexa moves. She kisses Lexa with certainty and trust, with a devotion Lexa hasn’t felt in a long time. Lexa reacquaints herself with Clarke’s velvet tongue and silk lips, the way her fingers are a little rough at the tips from working with so much clay. Clarke is raspy all over and Lexa loves it.

“Tell me about whatever,” Clarke finally whispers. “Tell me all the silly things your friends did and slept with before I got here.”

Lexa giggles. “Octavia is still in love with this guy from back home; she won’t tell me anything about him. Raven bookends periods of abstinence with more sex than I ever knew was possible…”

Clarke listens and laughs at all the right times. She tickles Lexa’s sides until they both fall off the bed, and then she tickles her some more. Just as Lexa is getting to the good parts of her stories, the bits that all begin with Anya, she looks down to find Clarke fast asleep. The sun is low in the sky and hot as it streams through the windows. Lexa pulls a blanket down from the bed and spreads it across both of them. The stories can wait, she decides, until she and Clarke are done being nowhere together.


	2. revolution song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa find time to talk while stranded in no-man's-land between Arkadia and Polis. Set circa 3x07 but definitely diverging from canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of Clexa Week: Stuck together, and the first of my canon installments. Title and lyrics by Fefe Dobson (the whole song is one of my all-time faves but especially for Clexa, so definitely take a listen.) Enjoy!

_and the days will get warmer, and i'll lay down my armor_   
_(together we can fight this feeling)_   
_and the demons that stalk us will eventually turn to dust_   
_(together we can start this healing)_

.

The kill-order makes perfect sense. That’s what you tell yourself, and that’s what you’ll tell Octavia when you see her. It makes perfect sense, except it doesn’t make any sense and you’re angry about all of it. You’re angry that you have to go back to Arkadia; that things have gotten so turned around in your absence; that Octavia is probably going to yell at you when you meet her.

(You’re unbearably angry that Lexa is letting you leave.)

But you can’t change what’s already been done so you walk faster, ignoring the stares and sometimes-smiles you get from people you pass. The wind isn’t even blowing that much today; you wish it would kick up into a gale. You want the world to be gray right now, like it owes you at least that courtesy, given how you’re feeling. But it’s sunny and warm and there isn’t a cloud in sight, save for the gloomy nebulus glaring at you from your designated meeting spot.

“Clarke.”

“Clarke!”

Octavia gestures for you to hurry up. You stop instead, because Lexa is behind you. Out in the open, calling your name in the middle of the city. You’re sure she must be out of her mind, but you turn around anyway.

“Forget something?” you mutter.

Lexa nods. “To give you safe passage.”

“What?”

“I’m accompanying you to the barricade.”

“Lexa,” you sigh. You almost forget that there are prying ears all around who would not want a Sky Person to be so familiar with their leader. (You definitely forget to care about it.) “What does Titus have to say about that?”

She actually smirks at you. “Nothing, if we hurry.”

“Clarke!”

Octavia is still here and you wish she wasn’t; you wish she wasn’t constantly putting you in a position to disappoint her, which is just a nice way of saying you wish you weren’t so disappointing.

You exhale slowly and set your shoulders. “Wait...just a minute, okay?” You only jog over to Octavia when you see Lexa nod again.

“Clarke, whatever she’s saying—” 

“Stop, Octavia. Please, just stop. I can’t come to Arkadia with you,” you shrug, “at least not right away. There isn’t that much of me left and I’m tired of giving it away. I just...need some time.”

“We don’t have any time left, Clarke.”

You set your hands on your hips and pace, huffing a frustrated breath. “Why do you keep asking me to fix things, Octavia? Hm? Why not let someone else do it?” 

“Because they’re doing it all wrong.”

“Oh, and you _clearly_ think I’m doing something right—”

“I think you could, if you just tried!” Octavia yells. 

“Then let me try,” you snap right back. “Let me try my way, and give me a little time.”

Octavia dismisses you with a wave as she walks back to Indra, and suddenly you’re very aware that Lexa is behind you. Her horse breathes on your neck and she passes you the reins.

“You’ve got a day, Clarke! One day!” Octavia calls out over her shoulder.

You lead Lexa out of Polis.

/

The ride to the barricade is longer than you expected and shorter than you wanted. All too soon, Lexa slips off her horse and secures its line to a tree, dusting her hands off as she waits for you.

“Well, I’m safe. Thanks; I guess.”

Lexa furrows her brows, the crease between them deepening as you speak. “I don’t understand.”

You point with your thumb over your shoulder. “I can make it to Arkadia from here; you can go back to Polis if you want.” Lexa blushes and averts her eyes, suddenly very interested in the ground. “Unless...there’s something else?”

She laughs, mostly to herself. “There are a lot of other somethings, Clarke. I don’t—I didn’t know how to say them in my tower.”

“Okay.” 

“Everything happened so fast,” Lexa continues, “and it should be familiar by now. But I still find myself surprised.” 

“By what?"

Lexa clasps her hands behind her back and squares her shoulders. She opens herself like no one you’ve ever met, and you wonder if anyone else gets to see it.

“By you,” she says plainly. “I learned the word ‘love’ from Anya, even though it wasn’t a word many warriors needed to know. But we used to speak in Gonasleng sometimes, when we had moments away from the rest of the clan. It felt nice to talk about private things in a foreign tongue. I learned it for her because I felt it for her.”

“Like you felt for Costia?” you pry.

Lexa shakes her head. “It was different. Just as deep, but different.”

You scuff at the ground, hoping a few extra moments will make it easier to keep talking. Your words, when they come, are softer than you expected.

“Like you feel for me?”

The corners of Lexa’s mouth twitch and she turns away, her hands freeing themselves. “I don’t know how to answer that,” she finally says.

“You just told me you do.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Clarke.”

You laugh and run a hand through your hair. “You can put your life at risk any day of the week, but this—this, you can’t do.”

“Clarke…”

“Your death wish terrifies me, Lexa. I don’t understand why you have to make everyone so aware of it all the time.” 

“I don’t—”

“You can let someone else be the martyr, you know? The world will still be around if you do more than just exist in it.”

Lexa stops for a moment and just looks at you, scanning your face for _something_. She opens her mouth to respond and closes it just as quickly.

“I’m going to make a fire,” she declares. “It will be dark soon." 

/

Night comes quickly. You bring back a kill from the woods as Lexa starts a fire and tends to the horses. Neither of you says a word. You’ve known what it feels like to work with someone even when you don’t want to. You grew up on the Ark; you’ll always help whoever needs it because nothing is ever about one person. 

(That’s what you keep telling yourself as you very pointedly don’t notice the way the flames bounce off Lexa’s cheeks.)

You cook in silence and you eat in silence, and suddenly the stars are out and you feel calmer. You’re stuck here with Lexa—she can’t go forward and you can’t go back—and it should feel hopeless. But, _god_ , it doesn’t at all.

“I talk about my death because that’s how I was taught,” Lexa says after what feels like hours of sitting. “Our world works because everyone is aware of my death.”

“That’s awful, Lexa. It really is.” 

She leans back on her hands, picking at a few strands of grass. “It’s what I know,” she says. “I don’t feel any particular way about it.”

“Yes, you do.” 

She sets her jaw; you shiver. “When I remind you that my life is always in danger, that I will die one day, I do it to prepare you. I do it to protect you, Clarke.”

“From _what_?” you blurt.

“From...getting too attached. From being vulnerable.”

“Weak, you mean.”

“No, that isn’t what I’m saying. I—you have changed my mind, Clarke, in much the way that I hoped Polis would change yours.” Lexa brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I have been the cause of your sadness before,” she murmurs. “I do not wish to repeat that.”

“Lexa.” You wait until she looks at you. “Do you talk about your death because you don’t want me to love you, or because you’re afraid I already do?”

“Do you?”

The ground was supposed to be a free place. You dreamed so often in your cell of landing on Earth and running away from everything familiar. Living in space doesn’t afford you a lot of it, unfortunately. You have been so cramped for most of your life and every instinct is telling you to pull away while you can.

Instead, you scoot until your shoulders touch Lexa’s. You’ve never felt the need to be so close to someone else like you do with her.

“I get it, you know.” You reach your hand across her knee, palm up, and wait for her to take it. “When you say it like that, I get it. But you don’t have to make these decisions by yourself. You can ask me, too.”

Lexa nods, her hair rustling at your side.

“Do you believe in me, Lexa?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to change the world with me?”

“For you,” she amends.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, Clarke,” she breathes. “I love you.”

You smile, squeezing her hand. “Good. I love you, too; and I know we can change the world together.”

Lexa flashes you one more grin as she stands up, and you have to laugh. She’s always so ready to start something new. You, on the other hand, could stand to rest a little more. 

You tug her back down as her arm, still holding yours, pulls taut.

“Tomorrow, Lexa. We can change the world tomorrow.”


	3. gimmie love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of finals, Raven plots to set Clarke and Lexa up on a date to relive their stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clexa week day 4: fake dating, aka everyone's favorite trope! which i sort of changed to fit the story, but oh well. set before chapter 1, and inspired by [this](http://itcameuponamidnightqueer.tumblr.com/post/157338056783) incredible tumblr post. title and lyrics from "gimmie love" by carly rae jepsen. enjoy!

_gimme touch, 'cause i want what i want;_  
_do you think that i want too much?_  
_gimme love, gimme love, gimme love, gimme love_  
_(fall into me)_

.

“Oh, Clarkey…”

“Don’t call me that; why do you _always_ call me that?”

“How’s my favorite transfer student?”

“Longing for the land of Lincoln.”

“Ew.” Octavia flops down on the couch, drawing an obnoxiously long sip from her soda. “What’s so great about Illinois?”

“What? No, that was actually a really clever pun; you just didn’t get the reference.”

“Methinks you’ve been inside too much.”

“Methinks those literature classes are wasted on you.”

“Clarkey…”

“You’re doing it again!”

“You need a smoothie.”

“No, I just need to focus on this paper; I’ve only got, like, seven pages left to write.”

“That’s disgusting. You disgust me.”

“Your face is disgusting.” 

Clarke looks up as the door closes. Lexa, despite her wonderfully timed insult, looks less-than-thrilled to be coming back to a full apartment. Her hair is fighting a losing battle with her scrunchie and Clarke could pack clothes for a week’s trip in the bags underneath her eyes.

“Help, help; I’m wounded,” Octavia deadpans. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

“Vampire squid.” 

“Oh, no.”

“Giant tube worms.”

“Octavia, you got her started.”

“Flashlight fish, and other deep sea organisms!” 

“Okay, you know what, Lex? You need a smoothie.” Octavia reaches across the coffee table and picks up a second cup Clarke hadn’t even noticed before. “Here.”

Lexa grimaces halfway through her first sip. “Gross, strawberries.”

“Okay, so maybe I got that smoothie for Clarke first. In my defense, she’s not as grumpy as you and I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“This isn’t home for you, Octavia; you have your own apartment.”

“Wait, why didn’t I get my smoothie?”

“You can have it, Clarke; I hate strawberries.”

“Sure, I can have it now, after you’ve tainted it with your hatred.”

“You know what? I do have my own apartment. I think I’ll go there now.”

The door closes for a second time in just as many minutes, this bang a little louder than the last. Lexa visibly flinches.

“Are you gonna be out here much longer? I wanted to meditate before dinner.”

“Since when do you meditate?”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Since—never mind. I’ll go to Anya’s.”

“Hold on, Lexa. You just got home; I’ll go. I need a change of scenery anyway.”

“So, coffee shop with Raven?”

“I’m not _that_ predictable.”

“Can you bring me home some tea? I’m gonna have a late night.”

“I’m not going to the coffee shop.”

“Clarke.”

“Yeah, okay.”

/

“I know school is stressful, but do you have to take it out on the coffee?”

“What?” Clarke looks down to see that she’s stirred her coffee so vigorously that most of it is on the table. “God damn it.”

“No big, we’ll get another one.”

“I don’t need another one.”

“I will buy you another one.”

“Okay, maybe I need one more.”

Raven gets up and makes her way back to the counter, patting Clarke on the head as she goes by. She comes back with a fresh coffee and a donut, which is more than enough to wipe the scowl off of Clarke’s face. 

“I think I know what else you need,” Raven says as she sits down again.

“The ability to freeze time until I’ve studied enough for finals?”

“I mean, sure; who doesn’t need that. But also: you’re way overdue in the boning department.”

“I’m flattered you’re offering but I don’t think of you that way, Raven.”

“Oh, you’re super funny. Two things,” Raven says, holding up her fingers. “One: there’s a standing offer for a great night of casual sex if you ever are interested, and I would fuck your socks off—”

“Stop.”

“Two: at least agree to a date.”

“With you?”

“ _What_ is your obsession with me? Do I date anyone?” Raven scoffs. “Jeez, of course not with me.”

“Well I’m not letting you set me up on a blind date.”

“Excuse you, I would be excellent at it.”

“Oh, you would so be the _opposite_ of excellent.”

“I mean, it’s moot either way. I know exactly who you should go on a date with.”

“Try me.”

Raven smirks as she finishes off the last of her coffee. “You live with her.”

“No, Raven…”

“Hear me out. You’ve already dated so you don’t have to put in any effort; you both need a night off something bad; and my _god_ eventually one of you is going to pass out from all the pining you’re doing.”

Clarke actually laughs at that. “I’m not pining. I can’t speak for Lexa, but I am definitely not pining. In any way.”

“You’re pining so hard in every way. Last week she let you have the last of her ice cream and you sighed.”

“I did not; that was just a normal-sized breath…”

“Oh my god, Clarke; I was making that up. Please date her.”

“Wait a minute, dating is different than going on a date. I’m not dating Lexa.”

“But you’ll go on a date? One date?”

Clarke narrows her eyes, searching Raven’s face for any sign that she’s not one hundred percent serious. Raven doesn’t move a muscle.

“Convince Lexa,” she finally says, knowing Raven never will. “If you convince Lexa, I’ll let her take me out.”

Raven smiles devilishly.

“ _Once_ , Raven. She can take me out once.”

“Pfft, that’s all I’ll need.”

“You’ll need?”

“Lexa, that’s all _Lexa_ will need.”

/

Clarke doesn’t hear anything for another three days, not from Raven or Lexa. Lexa is barely at home, spending her time either at the library or with Anya, and so Clarke assumes that nothing has changed.

But Thursday rolls around and Clarke grumbles any time Raven texts her. 

**_[2:47 pm]_ **

_she’s taking you to dinner,  
don’t eat a big lunch._

**_[4:12 pm]_ **

_wear something sexy_

**_[4:17 pm]_ **

_tbh you could pull off slutty if you  
wanted to._

**_[4:18 pm]_ **

_just so long as Lexa can also pull it  
off you, eyyyyy_

/

There’s a knock at the door just as Clarke is putting in her first earring.

“Lex? Can you get that?” She waits a few moments until the knock sounds again. Clarke rolls her eyes and tries not to stomp her way to the door.

She blushes as she opens it, all of her anger oozing out of her. Lexa smiles at her from the other side, looking positively dapper in suspenders and skinny jeans, hair swept elegantly to one shoulder.

“Hey, stranger,” she grins.

Clarke feels an ease she’d almost forgotten about, the comfort you can only find with people who are already comfortable with you.

“Hey, yourself,” she replies.

She takes the arm Lexa offers her and they walk out the door. Clarke can’t help but feel there are parts of her that are coming home.

/ 

“So, how did Raven convince you to say yes to this?”

Lexa smirks as she sips her water. “Why, do you think it was a hard sell?”

“It would have been for me,” Clarke admits.

“Really?”

“Sure, come on. With all the history and baggage between us? It would take a lot to come back.”

Lexa shrugs. “I think I could come back pretty easily,” she murmurs, “considering I never wanted to leave in the first place.”

Clarke stills in her seat, forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth. She’s on the verge of responding when her phone buzzes with a text from Raven. 

**_[7:27 pm]_ **

_why aren’t you eating your food_

Clarke furrows her brow and types in a quick ‘What?’ as Lexa silently pokes at her salad.

**_[7:28 pm]_ **

_look behind you_

Clarke sighs. Maybe if she doesn’t turn around, Raven won’t actually be meddling in her love life.

“Lexa,” Clarke finally says, “is there someone sitting behind me?”

“Not directly behind you,” Lexa answers.

“But maybe a few tables away? Someone familiar?”

Lexa narrows her eyes, scanning. “Not unless you know someone with a terrible musta—oh my _god_.”

Clarke’s phone buzzes triumphantly as Lexa continues to glare. Suddenly, Clarke has had enough of games and fake dates.

If Lexa never wanted to leave, then goddamn it, Clarke is going to stay.

She reaches her hand across the table and lets it rest in front of Lexa’s plate. “Here,” she offers.

“What?”

“Take my hand, Lexa.”

Lexa appraises her before she moves. “Why?”

“Not to spite Raven, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Lexa waits. “Okay, not _just_ to spite her. I—” She sighs and tries not to twitch her fingers. “I miss you,” she admits softly. “I miss you, and I’m sorry, and a million other things that would take a really long time to say. Time that could be better spent holding my hand.” Clarke smiles and wiggles her fingers encouragingly.

Lexa looks at her for a long moment. Clarke feels a familiar tug behind her ribs, the same pull she felt every time Lexa glanced at her during spare moments in high school. Lexa would turn around in her seat and look at her for as long as she could get away with. Those were the moments Clarke felt safest.

Finally, Lexa rests her fingers on Clarke’s palm. She scratches her lifeline and Clarke is suddenly glad Raven is behind her and can’t see the way her eyes immediately well up, can’t hear the intensity with which her breath hitches.

“I didn’t want to leave either, not really,” Clarke whispers. “I should have told you earlier.”

“Yeah.”

“But we can talk about that some other time.”

“Yeah.”

Raven is long gone by the time they pay their bill.

/

Lexa hesitates outside the door to their apartment and Clarke panics for a second, thinking she doesn’t plan on coming inside. It feels like Lexa is dropping her off, and Clarke imagines this is something like what Lexa went through when Clarke dumped her. Not on the same level, of course, but a part of Clarke wants Lexa to leave so she can get a taste of her own medicine.

Instead, Lexa leans on the door and crosses her arms over her chest. “When you said I would have been a hard sell for you,” she starts, speaking louder over Clarke’s attempts to interrupt, “was that because of how you felt about me, or how you felt about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Clarke. I know how guilty you get.” She shifts and shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Was this a pity date?” 

“What? No.” Clarke shakes her head vigorously before thinking that it might come across as too sincere. “Lex, I promise it wasn’t anything like that. To be honest, I wouldn’t blame you if _you_ thought it was a pity date, because I certainly don’t deserve anything more considering what I—” 

“Clarke—”

“No, listen, Lexa. I was an asshole. We were eighteen and stupid and maybe we wouldn’t have made it anyway, but I was still an asshole. I let Raven arrange tonight because I was too afraid to ask you myself. You’ve always been the bigger person in this relationship, you know? It still floors me, how gracious you are, and I’d love to give us a second chance if you’d let me try.” 

Lexa reaches out, sweeping her thumb across Clarke’s cheek. It’s overwhelming, Clarke decides. Lexa overwhelms.

“For what it’s worth,” Lexa practically hums, “I missed you, too.”

“Well, I am easily missable,” Clarke deflects.

“Don’t pull away from me, Clarke.”

“I’m not, I—”

“Clarke.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “okay. I’m here.”

Lexa smiles, full and promising. “There’s always a second chance with us, as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Clarke smiles back, opening the front door. Lexa pushes her through it, lips-first, and if they happened to stay that way forever—well. Clarke wouldn’t mind.


	4. overlap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa adjust to their places in a world of burgeoning peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clexa Week day 5: alternate/divergent canon. follows the second chapter and assumes a world in which the only part of 3x07 that happened was the sex. also featuring the only acceptable kind of lincoln, aka an alive kind. title and lyrics from "overlap" by ani difranco, which was left as a prompt on my soft clexa collection. sorry this didn't make it into that fic, but i think these two can be soft anywhere tbh. hope you guys like this one!

_come here, stand in front of the light;_   
_stand still so i can see your silhouette._   
_i hope you've got all night,_   
_'cause i'm not done looking._   
_no, i'm not done looking yet._

.

Clarke stays in Arkadia longer than you thought she would (certainly longer than you knew she’d planned.) She sends occasional updates, couriers when she can. Even though the notes are short, you can infer what she’s not saying. You know how hard she’s working to change her new home. The world is bleak and fragile and cold--and if anyone is going to save Arkadia, it will be Clarke. 

So you see her to the gate and head back to Polis, and you don’t turn around once on the journey. Titus, for once, keeps his thoughts to himself when you return. You distance yourself from him, preferring to rely instead on ambassadors you can trust than advisors you can’t. You spend a surprising amount of time with Roan, drafting treaties from the whispers and rumors he passes on after walks into town.

Weeks pass and Clarke’s letters grow longer, her handwriting steadier, more thoughtful. She takes time to tell you about things that don’t have to do with politics. She tells you how much she appreciates reconnecting with her mother, shares her worries about Raven and Bellamy. Secretly, you know Bellamy is beyond help and reason. But you assuage her fears and soothe her anyway. If Clarke has taught you anything, it is that there is always room to try.

(Every night, you try not to miss her.)

The weather warms and the city gets restless, and for the first time since your reign as Commander, the feeling spreads to you. Titus stresses the importance of training the Nightbloods but it doesn’t feel like enough. For every time you spar with them you want a thousand more; you want to fight battles until there aren’t any enemies left.

But you know that is an impossible hope, so you wake early one morning, saddle your favorite horse, and sneak out of the city. Aden will know where you’ve gone; you only feel a little guilty for leaving him the frustrating task of telling Titus. One of these days—soon, you hope—Titus will have to realize that you no longer answer to him.

The ride to Arkadia is swift and quiet. It puts a smile on your face every time you ride to see the open fields without any barricades to obstruct them. You take a moment to close your eyes and breathe in the mist. In your mind you hear the echoes of Anya’s laughter.

Guards watch you from the Arkadian gates; you dismount from your horse, unworried as you wait for admission. The world is lighter now; even the defeated can feel it.

The gates open to reveal Marcus Kane, smiling as he opens his arms. 

“What a welcome surprise, Commander! Just you?”

“Just me,” you nod.

“Well, it’s wonderful to see you.” He hands your horse off to a groom as you make your way into their settlement. It’s cleaner than the last time you visited, cultivated and still flourishing. Arkadia is finally starting to show some of its promise.

 “The same to you, Chancellor. Is Clarke busy?”

Marcus smiles and scratches his chin. “For you? I don’t think so.”

You try very hard not to blush in such a public setting; you are, after all, the most powerful person in the world.

And yet when Clarke catches your eye, you wonder if it would be such a terrible thing to be weak.

She checks her smile before addressing you. “Commander.”

“Clarke.”

“I have a few patients I have to tend to before I’m free. Would you like to join me?”

You hesitate. “Relations are still developing between our people; perhaps they would not appreciate—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke dismisses, “diplomacy is hard and you don’t want to step on any toes. Follow me anyway.”

You oblige her, curiosity winning out over tact, and you can’t hide your wide grin when you realize what she wanted you to see.

Octavia groans when she sees you walk in; beside her, Indra and Lincoln make no noises, but you see their jaws clench.

“These three had an accident,” Clarke explains, positively giddy.

“I see.”

“We _didn’t_ ,” Octavia protests.

“I have to stitch them up and then I can visit with you,” Clarke says, sitting down next to Lincoln. “Do you want to wait?”

You shake your head. “It’s been a while since my last visit. I think I’ll walk around.”

“Okay. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

You leave with a nod, wishing it could be a kiss. 

The city is starting to stir in earnest. You walk as far as needed to be out of Clarke’s sight, pretending to wander. When you’ve gone far enough, you double back toward the small building the Arkadians use as a prison. Your only reason for this visit is Clarke, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep busy.

It’s dark inside, stale and forgotten. The cell has a capacity for at least four people, but only one resides behind its bars now. He’s grown out his hair, matching beard flowing past his chin.

“Come to gloat?” he mutters from the corner. You hadn’t realized he’d even seen you.

“No.”

“What more could you want from me, then?” 

You sigh. “I never wanted anything from you, Bellamy. Your people, yes, but I never thought about you.” 

“Well. Thanks, I guess,” he laughs.

“How long have you been here?” 

“Six weeks? I stopped noticing.”

“And Pike?”

“Hasn’t Clarke told you all of this?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Fine.” He sniffs and leans his head against the wall. “Pike is dead, Kane won, and I’m a disgrace.”

“You Sky People are all the same.”

“Sorry, I thought we fought this war already,” he scoffs. 

“That isn’t what I mean.” You step closer to his cell, making sure not to look away as he watches you. “You take war as a personal offense but it isn’t about you. You view the Arkfall as a homecoming, as something you are entitled to, but this is not your home. Your people did not begin here. You dreamed of the ground but you are of the sky, Bellamy. I don’t mean this as an offense; Clarke is like this as well sometimes. And one day, I would like us to be able to exist together. All of us.”

He appraises you for a long moment. “What about you, Commander? What did you dream about?”

You hear no malice in his voice, and so you decide to tell him the truth.

“Stars.”

/

The day passes in fits of conversation. Most of the townspeople ignore you, save for stolen glances, but Arkadia is still consolidating her government, and so you take the opportunity to confer with Kane and his council. They will not yet agree to become the thirteenth clan, but that day is not so distant anymore. At least these leaders are willing to talk about change, and there is sincere respect in every handshake you give when you part.

Clarke is waiting for you in her quarters.

(They are nothing like your suite in Polis. The space is little more than a closet, and too close to neighboring rooms for your liking. You miss the view from your tower and the way its height made the vista in every direction spectacular.

But Clarke is here, and so you will make do.)

“You could have told me you were coming,” Clarke says as you close the door.

“I like surprising you. I don’t get to surprise many people.”

“Sure you do,” Clarke smiles. “They just don’t live for very long afterwards.”

“That’s an entirely different kind of surprise, Clarke.”

“I know.”

You sit down on the edge of her bed. Clarke immediately moves forward and starts unraveling your braids.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

“Me, too.”

“I think I’ll be able to come home soon.”

“Home?”

Clarke kisses your shoulder, and the other one. “I love my mom and my friends, but this isn’t home to me anymore.” The last of your braids comes free and she takes a moment to run her hands through your hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Just tired.”

“Okay. Then we’ll sleep.”

Clarke grasps your arms and pulls you back with her, settling both of you underneath a thin blanket. She reaches down and pops a button on your pants; you undo the rest, laughing as you kick them from your legs. You raise an eyebrow, daring her to go further, but she simply tangles her legs with yours and pulls herself to your chest.

Sleep has never come so easily. 

/

You wake in the middle of the night to a storm. Rain beats against the roof and it sounds foreign and strange, but this is still the same rain—your rain. You breathe in, deep and selfish, as your eyes adjust to the dark.

Clarke is standing by the window, a sheet wrapped around her shoulders. She doesn’t appear to be doing anything but you watch her anyway. This girl, who fell from the sky and ruined your life; who led the most hapless group of invaders all the way into a functioning society. She sets her shoulders and the sheet falls. Even in the moonlight you can see freckles on her back. Wherever she is, Clarke glows.

“Did something happen?” you murmur from the bed, propping your head on your hand.

Clarke jumps, just a little. “No,” she finally answers. “I just wanted to hear the rain.”

“How long have you been awake?” She turns toward you and you can see the remnants of tears on her cheeks. “I thought you said nothing happened.”

“It didn’t.”

“Then what’s wrong, Clarke?”

She laughs a little, wiping her eyes and falling back into bed. “It’s nothing, I—it feels like we’ve been on the ground forever. I can barely remember living on the Ark.”

“I feel that way about my past, sometimes.”

“I had a dream about space, about all the times I’d look at the Earth before I went to sleep. It always seemed so out of reach, you know? Like we’d never get here, like we’d be stuck up there until there weren’t any of us left. And now we’re here and everything went so wrong, so fast.”

“We’re fixing it, Clarke.”

“I know, it’s just—” She sits up, looking at you with wet eyes. Her hair is wild and messy, stretching outwards into the humidity of the night. There are creases on her skin from the pillows; her right cheek is red from where it was resting on your shoulder. She looks as free as you’ve ever seen her.

She starts to speak again but you cut her off. “I know you feel guilty, Clarke, and I know life on the ground isn’t what you were taught it would be. I feel the same way,” you laugh. She only grants you a smile, but you aren’t discouraged. “But I share every apology you have to make. I wish this peace had come faster, that Anya and Finn and everyone we’ve lost were here to share it. But a rocky path must be smoothed from both ends, Clarke. This is not your burden to bear alone.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think so, not yet.” You sweep tears from her cheeks, waiting for her to look at you. “But if it takes the rest of my life, I will make sure you do.” 

Clarke nods, her fingers circled solidly around your wrist. She kisses your palm, then your arm, all the way up your body until she reaches your lips. Clarke is a revelation, in every touch and gesture and smile. She takes your breath away even in times like these, when you have very little left to give. When you are with her, Clarke is everywhere.

The redness has dispersed from her cheeks to the rest of her face when you pull away. You’re sure you don’t look any better. (Fewer _have_ looked better.)

“I love you,” she whispers.

You smile, trusting a kiss to speak better than words could. Clarke pulls the covers over your bodies once more; this time, when she reaches down, she does go further.


	5. flowers in your hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa reunite after breaking up in high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for day 6 of clexa week, friends to lovers. the original inspiration for this modern trio was an ask i had sitting in my inbox for months: "Modern clexa prompt. They date for years and start a long distance relationship in grad school. They decide the relationship should be an open one but when they move back it's just them." clearly i've tweaked it a bit but thank you for sending it in! this chapter starts before the other two but continues on after. (why do i make these things unnecessarily confusing).
> 
> anyway, thank you guys so much for your kudos and comments! and to Ang, who was wondering about breakfast in the first chapter: hopefully this is a good enough answer :)
> 
> title and lyrics from the lumineers

_so now i think that i could love you back_   
_and i hope it's not too late,_   
_'cause you're so attractive;_   
_and the way you look,_   
_i won't close my eyes._

.

“A poli-sci major? Your mom’s gonna be super bummed.”

“She’ll deal. She’s a good dealer.”

“Clarke…”

“I know. I know exactly how that sounds, thank you. Please don’t take it further.”

“You know, considering she works at a hospital, she really could be a dealer.”

“Please stop.”

“New England’s answer to _Breaking Bad_ , Abigail Griffin.”

“I hate when you full-name my mom.”

“You have a knack for making everything sound wrong, you know that?”

“We’ve been dating for three years; don’t _you_ know that by now?”

“If I kiss you, will you shut up?" 

“No. But kiss me anyway.”

/

“Lexa?”

Lexa hums and lifts a strand of Clarke’s hair from her forehead, tickling it briefly in her eye. “You’re ruining the moment, Clarke.”

Clarke laughs eventually. “No, I’m not.” She twists and fidgets, settling with her head in Lexa’s lap, looking up at her favorite shade of green. “You haven’t given me the chance to ruin the moment yet.” 

“Are you saying you’re planning to?” The hair stills at the bridge of Clarke’s nose. “Clarke?”

“I got into George Washington.”

Clarke is unceremoniously dumped from Lexa’s lap as Lexa reacts, standing with a yell. “Clarke! That’s incredible! Congratulations!”

From her vantage point on the floor, Lexa looks beautiful; regal and important. She looks beautiful from every angle, but she rolls her eyes when Clarke tries to tell her just how much. “It is pretty awesome, huh?”

“Pretty awesome? Clarke, that’s a very prestigious school; you should be really, really proud that you got in. How much of a scholarship did they give you? You got one, right? You deserve one; between your grades and your extracurriculars—”

“Lexa.”

“You _didn’t_ get one? That’s bullshit. Your dad was one of their best alumni. Please tell me someone still remembers him.”

“Lexa, hold on—”

“I’m just saying, you can push a little if you want to. I know you like to avoid confrontation, but—”

Clarke cuts her off with a kiss, for a multitude of reasons. (Because she’s too nervous to do anything else, because her lips are pretty, because it’s been a few hours since the last one.) Lexa obliges heartily, pulling Clarke back onto the couch. Her hands fiddle with the hem of Clarke’s shirt, and it takes every ounce of willpower Clarke has not to encourage them further.

She keeps her eyes closed as she leans against Lexa’s forehead, hoping to find the strength to keep talking.

“Thank you for being so excited for me,” Clarke whispers.

“I’m always excited for you, Clarke.” Lexa kisses her this time, slow and safe. “And we can make the distance work; it’s not that far from DC to Boston.”

“I know, I—” Tears spring up earlier than she thought they would, earlier than she wanted them to. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Lexa wipes the tears from her cheeks. “Talk to me.”

Clarke nods, inhaling deeply. “I got the acceptance letter last week, and I was thinking. About us, and about distance and how hard it can be.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s us, Clarke.”

“I know, I do. I promise I do.” She takes another deep breath and watches the crinkle between Lexa’s eyes deepen. She hopes, somewhere deep down, that Lexa knows what’s about to happen. She’s always able to bounce back from things she expects.

“When my dad died,” Clarke continues, “I spent a lot of time being angry. I was so focused on what I lost, you know, and it wasn’t until a long time later that I was able to see the other side. That I found a lot of things and people down some paths I wouldn’t have walked if it weren’t for all that grief. You’re one of those paths; you know.”

“I do,” Lexa nods.

“College is hard. My mom keeps telling me that and I know if my dad were still around he would be too, and I want to do everything I can to make it less hard. For both of us.”

“Okay…”

“Do you see what I’m saying?”

“I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me a little more.”

“I think,” Clarke says, heaving a huge sigh, “that college wouldn’t be so hard if we weren’t...dating." 

“What?”

“It sounds dumb, I know—”

“It sounds _really_ dumb, Clarke, and I just got done telling you how smart you are.”

“Lexa…”

“Clarke, we’re not just _dating_ , we’re best friends. Are you telling me that you want to get rid of your biggest support system right before you go somewhere completely unfamiliar?" 

“I’m telling you that I’m afraid I’ll miss you too much, that I’ll miss you more than—” Clarke gets up, shakes off the feelings and presses her fingers to her eyes until she sees spots. “There’s a big Dad-sized hole still in me, Lex. What if we _can’t_ make the distance work, what if we try too hard until I’ve got a hole for you, too?” 

“That’s a big what-if, Clarke. You’re overthinking this.”

“I think you should go.”

Lexa scoffs. For one fleeting moment, Clarke can see the hurt in her eyes. It lingers just long enough to be noticed until Lexa locks it away. She sniffs and blinks, compartmentalizing with ease. “Screw you, Clarke,” she spits. She doesn’t even slam the door when she leaves.

( _That’s my girl_ , Clarke thinks, and then she cries.)

/

Her first year, unsurprisingly, is pretty rough. Lexa doesn’t answer her texts for a few months, and Clarke’s new friends must be saints because they listen to her pine without judging her (at least to her face.) Clarke keeps an eye on Lexa’s Facebook, feeling happy and hurt in equal measure when Lexa starts posting pictures with her new friends.

But eventually the sting goes away, and she soothes it with Lincoln. Lincoln, whose gentleness reminds her of Lexa, who hurts just as much whenever he talks about his flame from high school. He holds her at night when they’re both missing other people, and he lets her get lost in him. Clarke talks to Lexa more, listens as she chats about Anya and Raven and how they’re so cool and funny, and pretends it doesn’t hurt the first time she mentions Costia. Only Lincoln knows that she’s nursing a wound his big, muscly Band-Aid arms can’t fix.

/

“Are you listening to me?” 

“Of course.”

“What year was the beginning of Russian history?”

Clarke looks at him long enough to roll her eyes. “You’re a history major and we’ve been dating for a year and a half. I could answer that even if I _weren’t_ listening to you, which I totally was.” 

“Except you haven’t given me an answer.”

“862 A.D. Don’t doubt me.”

“Never.” Lincoln throws a fry at her. “Do you have your discussion group this week? Monty and Miller are throwing a party at their place.”

“If I have my group does that mean I can get out of going?”

“Oh come on, Clarke, they’re our best friends.”

“Yeah, who we’ve seen every day for the last two years. Aren’t they sick of us by now?”

“Okay.” He pushes the rest of his fries toward her. “What do you want to do instead?”

“I was thinking of dropping out of college.” 

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a fun Thursday night activity.”

“Yeah, but think of what a relief it’ll be.”

“All the more reason for you to come to Monty and Miller’s.”

“You’re saying I need to think this through a little more.”

“And also that you don’t have any excuses for Thursday.”

“Booooo.”

/

She brings it up again later, because they’re both nursing hangovers and there’s only a slight chance that Lincoln will remember the conversation at all.

“Hey, Linc?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Member last week, when I was talking about college?”

“What about college?”

“You know, me making it optional.”

He rolls over and breathes into Clarke’s face. “You were kind of serious, huh.”

“You’re kind of gross,” she says, pushing at his cheeks. “Eat a bucket of mints.”

“Clarke.”

“Yeah, okay. I was serious.” Clarke sighs and pretends not to notice Lincoln cringing. “It’s just, you know, my mom’s been by herself for a while now and, I dunno, I’m not really feeling DC anymore—”

“And Lexa just broke up with Costia…”

“They didn’t _just_ break up; it’s been, like, three weeks.”

Lincoln laughs, scooting across the bed to pull a pack of gum from his nightstand. He unwraps one piece, placing another on Clarke’s chest as he rests his head on her stomach. “You don’t have to drop out of college for her, you know. You could just...go home." 

Clarke doesn’t move until he blows a really big bubble, and then she pops it until it sticks to his nose.

“Is it a crazy thing to do?”

“Pfft, no.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe a little.” He blows another bubble and sucks it back in before she can pop it. “Still love you, though.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

/

And so she finds herself in Boston for the start of her junior year. She waits until the orientation for transfer students to tell Lexa, and before she knows it, Lexa’s friend Octavia has conspired with the housing administrators to make a few exceptions, and Clarke has an on-campus apartment with her ex-girlfriend—and it’s weird.

It starts weird and gets weirder, because Octavia expects so much and so does everyone else Clarke meets in the first few weeks. Everyone knows about her, about the legend of Clarke and Lexa, and it just feels like too much. She calls Lincoln three times a week, almost-calls him even more than that. She walks on eggshells around Lexa, because it’s so different—it’s so _good_ —to see her again, but Lexa keeps acting like nothing has changed. Clarke isn’t sure if anything will ever be enough to get them really talking again.

And then she meets Raven.

/

(Raven, who will never know how much Clarke appreciates her because Clarke would never live it down; who conspires with everyone she can to make sure Clarke and Lexa are in the same room as much as they possibly can be. Raven, who doesn’t even go to the same college as they do but who seems to live on campus because that’s where Clarke and Lexa are.

Clarke understands what it’s like to be one of Raven’s science experiments. She understands very thoroughly.

And when Raven successfully proves her hypothesis about the two of them, Clarke thinks that maybe she deserves a lot more than the half-hearted snark they always throw back and forth.) 

/

When Clarke wakes for the second time that morning, the first thing she sees is the underside of Lexa’s bed. There’s a sock shoved all the way in the middle, one that Clarke knows Lexa has been missing for at least a week. Clarke would reach over and grab it if she weren’t positive she’d come away with an arm full of dust.

“Lex, I found your stupid squid sock.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, which makes sense, since Clarke rolls over and discovers she’s not in the room anymore. She sighs and hoists herself up from the floor, groaning as her elbows pop.

She walks into the kitchen to find Lexa has practically cooked her own buffet. Clarke’s stomach rumbles so loudly it’s almost obscene.

“You just had to one-up me, huh?”

Lexa turns around from where she was plating bacon and smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We have a nice night, I make you eggs. You reject those eggs, we have a nice morning, and now I feel like I’m at a Marriott.”

“I’m...sorry for the sex and breakfast?”

Clarke laughs, bumping Lexa’s shoulder as they both sit down. “Well now you’re just making me look bad.”

“I couldn’t if I tried, Clarke.” Lexa sips her coffee and winks; you’re baffled it took Raven so long to convince you this was a good idea. You wish she’d had this idea months ago.

“How long are you going to be insufferably satisfied?” 

“I don’t know, how long do you plan on satisfying me?” 

“At least long enough to make up for all the time we lost.” 

“That’s it?”

“Plus another fifty or sixty years, sure,” Clarke shrugs. “Can we talk about something serious though?”

“What?”

“Who the _heck_ is Octavia’s mystery dude?”

Lexa wipes her mouth and drops her fork. “Listen, I’ve been friends with her for three years and I still haven’t figured it out. I stopped trying a long time ago." 

“It’s killing you, huh.”

“It’s _killing me_ , Clarke. All I know is he’s some nerdy beefcake and they had a bad breakup.”

Clarke furrows her brows. “But she still loves him?”

Lexa shakes her head. “No, not bad like angry. Her parents died in an accident right before her senior year of high school and he was already away at college. Then some shit happened with her brother and I think Octavia just stopped trying. She won’t ever talk about it; all I know about him is that he lives somewhere on the East Coast.”

“You don’t even know his name?”

“One time I think I caught the tail end of it when I heard her yelling at her brother on the phone. I spent a good three weeks trying to think of the names that would fit. Sebastian, Evan, Trenton.” She makes a face. “I really hope it’s not Trenton.”

“Octavia’s old boyfriend is a nerdy beefcake who lives on the East Coast and whose name ends in an N?”

“I know, right,” Lexa sighs. “I don’t think I’ll ever find an answer." 

“Oh my _god_.”

/

**_[9:28 am]_ **

_i’m going to forgive your rudeness_  
_at the restaurant as long as you_  
_tell me you and Lexa shared a bed  
_ _last night._

**_[11:17 am]_ **

_clarke_

**_[11:18 am]_ **

_clarke_

**_[11:18 am]_ **

_c l a r k e_

**_[11:20 am]_ **

_okay congratulations on all the sex,  
_ _i’ll take my thank you in_  
the form of liquor.

Clarke laughs as she reads Raven’s messages. She’ll answer them later, when she can give Raven all the attention she so desperately craves. For now, she has a mission to complete and nothing will distract her.

/

Four months later, Clarke flies to DC for the George Washington graduation ceremony. She says hi to Monty and Miller, visits with all of her favorite professors, and spends the entire flight home calming the six-foot teddy bear whose restless legs won’t stop jostling her seat.

Octavia drops her favorite mug when she sees him.

Lexa takes it in stride, shaking Lincoln’s hand with astonishing grace and tact. Clarke catches Lincoln’s eye as they make introductions and blushes at the sincerity in his smile.

She kisses Lexa a little bit too long when she sits back down on their couch, ignoring the wolf whistles and jeers from Raven and Lincoln.

They’re just gonna have to get used to it.


	6. god only knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing adventures of Clarke and Lexa Are Alive and Fixing Their Goddamn Shitty World with Their Eternal Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i'm super late in posting this! to make up for that, i give you a chapter that's pure wish-fulfilling fluff. is it cheesy? YEP. is it extra? YEP. do i care? NOPE.
> 
> follows the other canon installments. title and lyrics from the beach boys, though i wrote the chapter listening to john legend & cynthia erivo's cover. (did i cry? YEP.)
> 
> a big thank you to everyone who kudosed, commented, and bookmarked! hope you guys like this last chapter; it's been a fun clexa week.

_if you should ever leave me—_   
_well, life would still go on (believe me)—_   
_the world could show nothing to me,_   
_so what good would living do me?_   
_god only knows what i’d be_   
_without you._

_._

“We can’t wait for them to submit much longer, Heda.”

You tap your fingers against your throne. More than anything you wish Titus wasn’t right.

“I know,” you finally reply. “This is a delicate situation, Titus; I’m not in a position to—”

“With all due respect, Heda, you’re in a position to do anything you want.”

“Ambassador.” You turn your attention to the other person in the room. “How heavily armed is Arkadia right now?”

“Do you want your answer in spears or guns, Commander?” 

“Guns.”

Lincoln hesitates before answering. “The stock in the armory is substantial.”

“A few guns are no match for our _gonas_ ,” Titus scoffs.

“And no army is a match for a grenade,” Lincoln counters. “Many lives would be lost on both sides.” 

“But—”

You dismiss Titus with a wave of your hand. “Leave us, please.” He clenches his jaw and manages to leave the room without slamming a door. 

Titus is growing.

You slouch in your chair once he’s gone, relaxing as you address Lincoln.

“I hate to admit it but he is right, Lincoln. The day for uniting our clans fast approaches.”

Lincoln sighs. “Kane and the rest of the council are ready to take the brand again, but the rest of our citizens are more reluctant. I don’t know if they’ll agree.” 

“Kane already has the brand; he hardly needs to take it again. I only need a treaty.”

“You know he’ll sign it.” 

“I don’t understand, Lincoln. Arkadia is not ruled by its people. Whatever the Council decides is law.”

Lincoln stands up, pacing across the room. “The city is still uneasy, Heda. Kane is reluctant to exercise too much power; look what happened to the last leader who did that.” He folds his arms behind his back, suddenly interested in the floor. “There is another way to join the clans.”

“I know.”

“You don’t even have to negotiate with Kane to achieve it.” 

“Kane is not who I’m worried about.”

Lincoln laughs. “I don’t think you need to be worried at all, Heda.”

He exits with a wave, and you blush in the solitude of your throne room.

/

It’s an idea you’ve considered more than occasionally since the beginning of the peace. At first it seemed reckless, selfish and irrelevant. But as the weeks drew on and Arkadia remained steadfast, you wondered if it had become somewhat of a requirement. (This thought prompted your second bout of hesitation, because if this solution were to happen, you wouldn’t want it to be borne out of necessity.) 

“You’re thinking about something too much,” Clarke teases from the doorway.

“Don’t I always?” you grumble.

“I don’t know, sometimes I can coax you into not thinking.” She walks toward you, twining her hands around your waist. “What are you doing for the next half an hour?”

“I’m not sure,” you smile. “I could be persuaded.”

Clarke laughs and kisses you, slow and safe. She soothes all of you, with one hand resting on your chest and the other a steady pressure on your back. You’re certain Clarke can master time. 

“You’re still thinking,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Arkadia.”

Clarke sighs and pulls away. “Kane still won’t become the thirteenth clan, huh?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Don’t patronize me, Lexa.”

You smile, resting your forehead against Clarke’s. “You’re right; I apologize. No, he won’t consent,” you answer. “But that’s not the complication.”

“What is?”

“Kane is reluctant to submit because of Arkadia’s fragile political climate, but I know of a way to supersede his authority and join our clans without signing any documents.”

“Okay.”

“The concept of an alliance between clans existed before I joined all twelve,” you explain. “It was more limited, but the precedent is still there. If leaders of separate clans entered into a union, their people became one.”

“I think Kane’s a little old for you,” Clarke jokes.

“I wasn’t thinking of Kane.”

Clarke leans back, kissing you once more before meeting your eyes. “I’m not a leader anymore, Lexa.”

“That doesn’t matter when I’m the Commander.”

“Well, then this seems pretty straightforward to me. How soon can we make it happen?”

“Clarke…” You take a step back, letting your joined hands drop between you. “I don’t want you to misinterpret my reasons for wanting this. This is more than a union of clans to me.” You take her cheek in your hand. “ _You_ are more than a union of clans to me.”

“I trust you, Lexa.”

You sigh, not yet convinced. Your feelings have always been your downfall, whether you were allowed to feel them or not. You are still trying to shake Titus’s influence, still trying to find the line between letting your feelings guide you and letting them overwhelm. Every time you think you have a good grasp on the balance, you remember Clarke.

Clarke, who takes your hands and leads you to your bed; who sits you down gently and rests a hand on your shoulder. “What’s bothering you, Lex?”

“I want this very much, Clarke,” you murmur. “I want you. But I don’t want you to think this is a matter of politics.” 

“You’ve just told me twice that it’s not. I believe you." 

You smile, though the fluttering in your chest persists. Clarke presses a quick kiss to your cheeks and stands up from the bed.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and predict that your people don’t really have sentimental traditions when it comes to unions, huh?” You shake your head. “Okay. Well, mine do. It’s not that grand of a ceremony anymore, not since the bombs, but we still have some things. Mostly a ring and a lot of speeches.”

“Okay.”

Clarke squats in front of you, resting her hands behind your shins. “You and I have both had to grow up pretty fast, and we still don’t understand a lot about each other. We’re from two completely different worlds; we see things through different eyes and we always will. Your past has made you who you are, just as mine has for me.” She presses a kiss to each knee. You can feel your worries slowly seep out of you. “We’re stuck with each other whether we like it or not, and I happen to like it. This union _is_ a matter of politics, Lexa. Trying to deny that is stifling who we are. This isn’t just your cruel world anymore; it belongs to both of us. I can marry you for love and power.”

You laugh in spite of your pounding heart. “Clarke…”

“I still blame myself for a lot of what happened,” she continues. “It’s going to take time to overcome that, just like it’ll take time for you to start leading with your heart again. But we can help each other. We create the world we want to live in, right?”

You nod.

Clarke lifts herself up and forward, meeting you with a kiss. You wonder if you’re ever going to get used to the way she makes you feel, like you could despair and create in the same breath.

“So marry me,” she whispers, “because I love you, and I think we can fix this world for good.”

You kiss her again, not bothering to wipe away the tears you’re both suddenly shedding. “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier, Clarke.”

“You say that now, but we still have to tell my mom.”

“I’ve fought countless battles; Abby Griffin is formidable but I’m not afraid.”

The furs are soft as you fall back into them. Clarke is a solid and comforting presence above you, pressing down into you until you can no longer find the edges between your bodies.

You hope you never do.


End file.
